Glass
by GoldandSilverUnite
Summary: Severus Snape is made from glass—and with enough pressure, the glass beings to crack.  And surely, when enough cracks are formed, the glass will shatter altogether.  Angsty Snape; collaboration project!
1. Chapter 1

**Glass**

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_Hello everyone! Welcome to the first collaboration story written by His Lil Half Blood Princess and SeverusSnape19 (me—and yes, I am still on hiatus, writing away, you'll be pleased to hear. And...no, I have not moved to Mexico, I have no idea why this site is showing that!). _

_We've been planning this for a while; and finally the unreliable one (me) managed to post something! We're writing blind; neither of us knows what the other has written until we post it to add a little adventure to the whole thing! We hope you enjoy it!_

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_**The idea centres around how Severus Snape is made from glass—and with enough pressure, the glass beings to crack. And surely, when enough cracks are formed, the glass will shatter altogether.**_

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April 19th 1967

He was soaring among the clouds, laughing delightedly as his fingers skimmed the white, soft shapes beneath him. He swooped down, following the path of the horizon, wanting to fly as high as the birds, to see how far he could go. He looked down and saw rivers and trees, so small beneath him.

He was so high up, and it made him so happy! The sunlight was warm on his skin and the wind was slight, brushing soft fingers across his cheek.

But then the sky started to darken. He looked behind him, and saw the birds disappearing, hurrying away as fast as they could. He looked down at the ground and saw the trees burning and the rivers turning to black sludge.

And he was losing height—and suddenly, he could not stay up! He tried, but instead he was plummeting toward the ground.

A voice rang out, loud and terrible, filled with anger, "Where is the little brat?"

He had hit the ground and was on his feet, running, running as fast as he could. He jumped over the scorched ground, looking around, seeing his precious world falling apart, into ruin.

He kept running, hoping to put distance between him and the monster that chased him. The monster of his nightmares—with terrible eyes and a terrible voice, so huge and gigantic that he could not hope to defeat it, the monster that caused such pain.

Fingers, such large fingers, clenched around his shoulder and threw him to the ground. He landed on his back, but when he tried to turn over and scamper away, he was pulled up and slapped across his face. The big hand made his cheek scream and he moaned. He could smell that familiar scent—he was not sure what it was, it was only ever there in the evening, when the monster was angry...

The monster punched him in the stomach, laughing when he doubled over. How he wished he had a weapon to defeat the creature, as he had seen in the books at his school. He could throw the monster down and make him bleed, he could kill him, and free his world from such hurt!

He was thrown back onto the ground—he felt the impact on his back, as a foot smashed down onto his face. He cried out, tears burning his eyes—he would not let them fall, heroes did not cry.

He was a hero. She had told him that—he was a brave and fearless hero and nothing could hurt him!

"Leave him alone!" He heard her voice and smiled. He raised his head. The Queen would save him. He looked at her flowing black hair and her sparkling black robes and knew that he would be saved. She always stopped the monster, she always found a way to make the pain go away.

He loved the Queen very much.

The monster did not love the Queen. He bellowed at her, reaching out that large hand and wrenching the crown from her black hair. He sat up, needing to help her, but he was too small. He was not a hero, yet.

He watched the monster take a swing with his giant fist, pounding it into the Queen's chest. She cried out—he jumped up, charging at the monster, hoping to knock him over—but the monster simply laughed at him and hit him again and again until he fell to the floor.

And then she was there, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away from the monster. He could see red tears on her face—he wanted to touch her face, to tell her it was all right—he wanted to be a hero—

The monster reached out and shoved her, away from him, away from the monster. She seemed to pause and stare at him for a moment, before falling backward.

And he leapt to his feet, watching her as she toppled off the side of the cliff.

He cried out to her, reaching out a hand, hoping to catch her, but he was too late.

And he watched her fall and land. She was still.

His Queen was still. Her eyes were open, still staring at him.

But she did not blink. And he knew that she was dead.

He looked around and saw his world, his own world, the place that he had created, where he had flown high in the sky and sat by thundering waterfalls begin to burn and disappear.

Until there was only darkness.

Darkness and the red eyes of the monster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Hi! I actually decided to try and write this NOW! Let's see if I can succeed! I have about forty-five minutes._

_Well, this is His Lil' Half-Blood Princess and this is my chapter. Let's see… what happened to the 'hero'. I hope everyone likes this! _J

_SeverusSnape19 moved to MEXICO? _J

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"Albus…" Minerva McGonagall's voice was tainted with uneasiness. The past day had not been at all easy or smooth for anyone involved. After all, this was very serious. Too much pain, too much hurt. The world seemed to be shattering beneath their feet.

"I know," Dumbledore said, rereading the piece of parchment. "It's too hard to believe."

"What are we going to do?" Minerva asked, sitting down and looking at her hands. This was too much.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know." Dumbledore sighed and stood up. "I guess he'll just have to stay there."

"Stay there?" Minerva said, giving a small gasp. "Albus, you can't just leave him there! Not there."

"What else can we do, Minerva?" Dumbledore said briskly. "We can't do anything." He walked over to the window and looked out over the grounds.

A smile crept up on Minerva's face. It felt odd to smile, there had been nothing to smile about for a few days. "We could take him in."

Dumbledore turned around abruptly. "Minerva! That is NOT an option!"

"Oh, Albus, why not? We have plenty of room and it'll only be for a few years before he can be here rightfully! It would help him!"

"No, Minerva. We can't. This is a school. Not an orphanage." He said this firmly, as if that was the end of the conversation. But Minerva McGonagall was a very persistent woman.

"Eileen would want you to do it. What would she think? Her only son in an orphanage all of his life? A muggle one nonetheless? We need to help him. For her." Dumbledore sighed again. Why was this so difficult?

Tobias Snape had killed Eileen Prince that day. How the Muggle police had found out was beyond theim. But they did. Tobias was arrested and Eileen was buried. They mourned, and they did nothing to vouch her murderer.

Then, of course, there was her son.

Seven-year-old Severus had been left in the world, parentless, penniless, and alone. Tobias had no living relatives and Eileen's family wanted nothing to do with the son of their rebellious daughter. So they had put him in the orphanage. It was impossible to leave him there. He knew of his wizarding heritage and could l muggle children about it. Not only that, but it was just so sad. And wrong. Why put him there when there were people who could take him in?

"I don't _know!" _Dumbledore snapped. "This is too much to deal with at once. We need to think about it."

"We can at least go to orphanage and look at him," Minerva suggested with a shrug. "Who knows, he could be a help to us."

Dumbledore considered. _"Maybe. _I don't see why we can't go see him…."

Minerva smiled. "Of course. When should we go?"

"Tomorrow, I suppose..."

"Excellent. I'll leave you be." She stood up and headed for the door.

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_"Don't!" he shouted. But the man in front of him ignored him, thrusting his fist. "Stop!"_

_"Shut up you little brat!" His voice roared and there were screams._

_There was blood._

_There was pain._

_There was darkness._

_And he was alone….._

"NO!"

He sat up in bed, shaking. The scratchy sheets were wrinkled and his pillow was on the floor. He gasped for breath and looked around him. The room was still dark. What time was it? He didn't know. He wiped his forehead. It was hot in here.

He leaned over and picked up his pillow and lay back down.

He was scared.

He didn't like it here. He didn't _belong _here. He wished he was somewhere else. He liked the way it had been before.

Before she died….

He missed her.

He wanted to cry.

But….

"Heroes don't cry," he murmured to himself before sleep claimed him and whisked him away.

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_Short, I know, Hopefully, next chapter will be longer. :)_


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